To Forge a Blade
by Fans Fabulis
Summary: One man's humanity is stripped away, piece by piece, leaving the perfect weapon in the hands of a questionable organization.
1. Chapter 1

The silent man, dressed in command red, sat easily on a bench on the upper level of the promenade on Deep Space Nine. From time to time, he looked up and down the curving corridor, a slight smile playing across his features. The smile became a wide grin when he saw a young woman and a small boy, around six years old walking towards him. As they neared, he stood up and swept the boy into his arms.

"And how's Jason today?" he asked, shifting the boy into one arm so they other could reach out and encircle the woman. "…and my lovely wife." He finished, shifting his gaze to her.

The woman smiled back. "Two weeks." She said, "and then on to the academy."

"Where," the man looked back at Jason. "Daddy is going to teach and will never have to be separated from you again." Jason beamed back at him, seeming unable to express his happiness verbally. The man let his son down and folded his wife into a deep embrace, culminating with a passionate kiss. Then, he whispered, "Two more weeks, Natalia, and it will all be over."

Finally letting go, he jogged down the Corridor, suddenly worried about being late for his assignment.

About an hour later, a type eight shuttlecraft departed DS9 and headed into the wormhole. Commander T'lyrander, DSI, had begun his last mission with Starfleet Intelligence. Checking over his to-do list, he made sure the delicate sensor SFI had installed was working properly, and then began active scans as soon as he left the wormhole, following a trail of odd particles that didn't normally show up on Starship sensors. The first week passed uneventfully but at the end of the seventh day, something odd happened.

"Particle trail has ended." The computer's voice rang in the narrow confines of the shuttle. Commander T'lyrander looked up from the book he was reading.

"Computer, confirm last message."

"Particle trail has ended."

The commander sighed. "Scan for any concentrations of the particles within sensor range."

"One concentration found, spherical, approximately one AU in diameter."

"Where?"

"Particle concentration is in System alpha 3y"

"Set course and engage at maximum warp."

"Course set, ETA is 3 days."

"Three days," he muttered, "lovely." The man settled back into a chair and thought back over the course that had led him to this point in his life. After being rescued from an Orion pirate - the only home he'd had - at the age of twelve, Tuusan Madrae T'lyrander had been adopted by a couple from Kansas in what used to be the United States of America. Growing up in a more rural area, Tuusan had been fascinated by their only neighbor, a kindly gentleman who also happened to be a pioneer of a form of neural science, specifically, neural programming. The study had captivated the young boy, and the gentleman, a Dr. John Gunther, had obliged the boy by allowing him to read through notes and books on the subject, and teaching him the rudiments of what he would need to know. When the boy was ready, Gunther taught him the 83 base synaptic pairs, the "language" of neural programming. When he was fifteen, a very proud Gunther pulled strings and Tuusan was given the opportunity to go to a research institute in Paris, by the time he entered Starfleet academy at the age of eighteen, he was qualified to perform procedures in this little known area of medicine.

At the academy, however, things changed. Tuusan decided he'd go for a tactical position, instead of medical, and adjusted his courses accordingly. Of course, that was before he met a man named Drake.


	2. Chapter 2

About four years earlier...

Tuusan sat in his seat, foot tapping lightly about a thousand times a minute, waiting for class to be over. Finally, Professor Greely handed out assignments and dismissed the class. Tuusan got up to bolt for the door.

"Tuusan, would you stay for a moment, please?" Professor Greely looked at him with a "that was not a question even though it sounded like one" face.

"Yes, sir." Tuusan came up to the Professor's desk, confused as to why he might have been called up front. Greely set a padd on the desk for him to read, and after looking over the title, He sighed. "Oh, well, I realize that perhaps my position isn't a popular one, and it may even be disturbing bu-"

"Tuusan," Professor Greely said, cutting him off. "I didn't ask you to stay to criticize your paper, in fact I thought your defense of assassination as a means to avert war to be intriguing, if a little outdated… the idea goes all the way back to the assassin's sect of ancient earth history, at least on our world. In fact many cultures across the known galaxy have had similar groups. For some it is even a way of life. This paper was perhaps the most compelling argument for assassination that I've ever read, and believe me, in more than thirty years of teaching Ethics in Combat, I've read more than one paper taking your position. However, did you ever stop to consider the moral dilemma? I mean, in essence you are advocate sneaking into a man's home and ending his life, without a trial, without his giving a defense. Don't you think that conflicts with the very ideals of the Federation?"

Tuusan pursed his lips, choosing his reply carefully. "Well, sir, it would seem to me, that if there is no federation, then there are no morals or ethical constructs to protect. If the federation is threatened say, by a biological weapon, or red matter, wouldn't it be better to remove the person responsible for using or planning the use of the weapon, rather than bringing him to trial after the fact… when there may not be a federation to bring him to trial? I'm not advocating that the entirety of Starfleet be used for assassination missions and outright killing. But a small group, easily able to infiltrate civilian areas, could remove many threats before they have a chance to harm us. Obviously every person in the group would have to believe that it's worth surrendering higher ideals for, but the reality is that the public would be safer, and need never know that this group even exists. They would be used only in extreme circumstances, to take care of specific targets. Such acts would never become the way wars are fought, or peace is brokered, but they would be an aid to peace, and a powerful threat to those who might wish us harm."

Professor Greely looked at him with an odd smile. "Tuusan, a group of us are get together every Thursday and talk about issues like this, ethical issues, moral conundrums, and what is and isn't feasible… it helps to clear the head and lets us sort through things in a less formal setting than this lecture hall. I think you would benefit from it.

"Us?"

"Yes, myself and some other professors and cadets, we can walk to the meeting place together, I'll swing by your quarters, say around 1800 hours?"

Tuusan thought for a moment and then nodded.

"Good, see you tomorrow night then." The professor grinned at him and then waved to the door, indicating that he could go.

After Tuusan left the room, Greely turned to his desk console and called up an old friend.

"Hello Greely, tell me something good."

"He'll be there, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"Good."

The communication ended abruptly, and Greely leaned back in his chair, thinking of the possibilities. Tuusan's file had surely impressed him, a twenty year-old that held a degree in an advanced field of medicine such as Neural Programming was nothing to sneeze at. There was potential there, and He meant to unlock it.

* * *

When Tuusan wanted to do some major thinking, he walked. It didn't matter where, he just went out for a walk, sometimes wandering for hours until he found the solution to whatever problem he was thinking about. This particular walk simply took him around the academy grounds… for hours. He wasn't really looking where he was going, just walking in a big circuit, chewing on what Greely had told him. On one hand, he thought that some of the higher ideals were standing in the way. On the other, he wasn't sure he wanted those ideals to change, after all the federation hadn't gotten where it was by being cruel and merciless. Tuusan didn't believe that the ethical mindset of the federation should change, he simply thought that the means of protection could be improved… which left him in a bit of a conundrum. What it came down to was this, he decided, In order to protect the majority of people, and their ideals, a few would have to give up those ideals, and concentrate solely on physical protection, at any cost. The galaxy was becoming a dangerous place of late, and the Klingons allying with the Orion Syndicate only made it more dangerous. Still, he supposed it wasn't really his decision; after all, he was just a second year cadet in the academy.

Stopping for a moment to look out over San Francisco Bay, he sighed and headed for his quarters, hopping the next day's discussion would provide some answer that he'd overlooked.


	3. Chapter 3

When Tuusan and professor Greely arrived at the meeting that Thursday, Tuusan was a little nervous. After all, the professor had said that one of the admirals attended the meeting. He wasn't really sure what that meant. Perhaps he was simply there to offer advice. Of course, there was another part of his mind, the almost feral instinct he had acquired living on a pirate vessel. That part of him was screaming that it might be a trap, and he had to constantly remind himself that this was Starfleet, not the Tal Shiar. Eventually they arrived at a corner coffee shop, and went through the main room to a private room at the back.

Most of the participants were already there. There were two Med students, someone from special ops training, an admiral, as promised, Two other professors, and a man at the back of the room wearing a standard uniform, but all in black instead of the usual red, gold, or blue.

"Tuusan," Greely said, "I'd like to introduce you to some friends of mine. the that's Tom and Joseph, they're third year medical students. Jason there is in Covert Ops training. This is Vice Admiral Jacobs, and I believe you know Professors Talinar and Sirtis.

"And I," came a voice from the back, "am Drake, Franklin Drake. The man stood up with a faint grin. "and you are the one who wrote a masterpiece defense of assassination. Or should I say, 'Extraordinary Measures for Extraordinary Times' an interesting title to be sure, and one that grabbed my attention. How many of you read the copy of this paper?" He asked, looking around the room. They all nodded including, to Tuusan's shock, Vice Admiral Jacobs. "What did you think?" Drake asked the room at large.

"Well... " one of the med students shifted in his seat before going on. "it seems to me that while the paper is pragmatic and logical in its approach to the issue, it ignores the ethics, or lack there of, of assassination, which is, at its root, nothing more than a well planned murder. To shoot and kill a man on the battlefield is one thing, to stalk him, and relentlessly pursue him even into his own home, and then to shoot him as one might hunt and shoot a dangerous animal is something else entirely. There's a certain measure of decency that wouldn't allow it, at least in most federation citizens."

The other med student sat up straight in his seat. "On the one hand that may be true, but what is proposed isn't the removal of morality and decency, it is rather the willful abandonment of higher ideals, for the good of the whole. As federation citizens we take pride in our ideals, they have sustained us through tough times. They inspire us, but in some few cases, they are not enough; they are too constricting to be of use. it is in those instances when a man or a woman who is willing to sacrifice those ideals, could change the course of history for the better. the timely removal of a dangerous foe is hardly the downfall of the Federation. It could, in fact, be its salvation.

"Personally," began the Covert ops trainee, Jason, Tuusan remembered, "I can see where it might have merit. but an assassin would need to have a good handler. You can't train someone in that kind of work and not put a safeguard in place. Even if the chance of him turning were very small, it would exist. Even the remotest possibility of that would be enough in my mind to justify never using it as a means of warfare."

Vice Admiral Jacobs nodded. "I'm inclined to agree on that. The very idea of such a weapon becomes more sinister, when you realize that it would have to be either someone we know would never turn, or someone we could get rid off if he ever became a liability.

Greely thought for a moment than nodded. "I suppose that that would be the major practical concern. In essence to create such a thing would be to make a weapon out of living flesh. it would have all the inherent weaknesses of a man. Passion, concern, love, joy- those things would have no place; however, it is not only the good emotions that must be surrendered. One would also have to surrender hate, anger, and jealousy." Both of the other professors nodded at Greely's words, and Tuusan noted that Drake was actually taking notes.

One of the med students stood up. "Um... well, Tom and I, we were wondering... what's it like? Neural programming I mean."

Tuusan thought for a moment. "Well, I suppose it's similar to genetic engineering, only quite a bit more limiting. for instance, I can't make a man stronger, but I can make him think better. Mostly it's used to repair neural damage. You see..." For the next hour or so he covered the basics of neural programming theory. eventually the meeting broke up, and he made his way back to the cadet barracks and sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Several days later, Tuusan was walking through the halls, on his way to the holodecks for some weapons practice, when he heard someone calling his name. Turning, he spotted Franklin Drake beckoning him over to a small office. He checked the time and then stepped over to the superior officer.

"yes sir?"

"Drop the sir, Tuusan, The name's Franklin." Drake smiled and motioned him deeper into the office. "I already told your weapons training instructor that you wouldn't be there today. You and I need to have a chat."

"about what, sir?"

"about you, and how you can help Starfleet."

Tuusan's brow cocked in inquiry. "What do you mean?"

"There is a group of us in Starfleet, who agree completely with using more desperate measures in these times. I won't insult you by beating around the bush. We want you to write a neurological program for us. We need something that would give an operative the edge over almost any way for him to outpace the competition. Right now, this is purely hypothetical, but the facts are that such a proposal as the one you made in your paper, is not only viable, but extremely interesting to those of us in intelligence. In order to carry them out, however, we need a perfect operative, or as close to it as we can get." Drake held up a hand, stopping Tuusan from replying. "I don't want you to say anything right away, I just want you to think about it. I'm going to Utopia Planitia shipyards this afternoon, and I'll be back in a few days. we can discuss it then."

After a somewhat bewildered Tuusan had finished the day's exercises, eaten and finished his homework, he still found himself turning the thought of a ''perfect operative'' over in his mind. In fact, he wasn't sure he liked the implications of the idea. On paper, the concept had seemed useful, even necessary, but things were becoming less abstract very quickly, and the young cadet wasn't sure he liked the direction his paper had taken him. It was a long and sleepless night.

Over the next day, Tuusan found himself going over the problem in his head. Despite his misgivings over the morals of the project, at an academic level, he found the question of how to make the perfect operative to be intriguing. He decided that the basis of the correct solution would have to- and that was as far as he got, because at that moment, lost in thought, he collided with another cadet.

"oh! I'm sorry excu..." He trailed off for a moment. She was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. "I...uh... that is... sorry..." He could feel the blood rushing to his face.

"That's alright. If you could just... " The young cadet motioned towards a padd that had fallen from a stack she was carrying.

"what? oh... right, of course." He bent over and retrieved the padd, placing it back on top of the stack. The cadet murmured something that he was too distracted to hear, and then floated out of his sight. Tuusan started, and came to the realization, with the aid of several whispered conversations around him, that he was standing in the middle of the pathway, staring into space. he hurriedly composed himself and started walking, although he wasn't sure where he was going.

_The commander leaned forward, checking over his instruments. Other than a small anomaly half a lightyear off, everything seemed to be in order. Yawning, he put the memories of his past out of his head and leaned back for a quick nap._

__(I do apologize for this taking so long, unfortunately, I cannot write full time, and sometimes the rest of my life gets in the way.)


End file.
